


Death By Snu-Snu

by SparkKisses



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alien Culture, Alternate Universe, Comedy, Dubious Consent, Humor, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-09
Updated: 2012-10-09
Packaged: 2017-11-15 22:49:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkKisses/pseuds/SparkKisses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU inspired by... well, "Amazon Women in the Mood" from Futurama. I make no excuses. </p>
<p>Optimus Prime and his entourage are abducted and held prisoner when they accidentally trespass on seeker territory. The price paid is... rather steep, even if only Prowl seems to think it's unacceptable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death By Snu-Snu

    “I guess it was too much to hope for that for once, something didn’t go wrong,” Ratchet grumbled. 

    “It could be worse,” Jazz opined, but Optimus Prime didn’t see how. That Jazz had the audacity to be hopeful while cuffed and chained to the floor by his ankles and wrists was more than any of those present could comprehend. 

    Unlike his compatriots, Optimus Prime did not fuss with the restraints. The chains were long enough to allow standing – and not a micrometer more. Considering their varied heights that was impressive, especially given the supposed “undeveloped” nature of their captors.

    The caravan had been one part political campaign, one part supply convoy. The outer colonies required the energon subsidies to be sure, but also stood to be reminded of from whose hands that energon came from. So, with much persuasion, Optimus Prime left Iacon City in the hands of Ultra Magnus as steward, and set out with his entourage on a mission of goodwill into the provinces. 

    They should have had enough to defend from mauraders, even as small as the party was, but now Optimus was forced to concede that he had made a mistake when insisting that a small group would be less of a target than a large defense force marching through the wastelands. They had been targeted anyway – and now, captured, the energon he had personally hauled gutted from his trailer and no doubt being guzzled away.

    “I can’t believe this,” Ratched groaned, pulling futilely on the chains again. “Of all the mechs to swarm us, it had to be the most backwards, overclocked, glitched mechanisms this side of Cybertron!”

    “Perhaps they can be reasoned with,” Optimus suggested gently. Ratchet’s sharp reply was interrupted by a fast-approaching cacophony that had all Autobots present watching the open archway of their prison with wary silence. They didn’t have to wait long for the source to appear: their captors, filing into the chamber in a clamor of rattling armor, thrumming engines, clicking and shrieking speech, and raised wings jostling with their neighbors’ for space. 

    “Sure, Prime,” Jazz murmured, barely audible over the noise, “Reasoned with. Right.” Everyone knew seekers, one of the few castes who had resisted integration, were violent and unscrupulous by nature. What they would do with such a prestigious catch was anyone’s guess.

    Shortly, the screeching dropped off – mostly facilitated by the swift fists and noticeably louder rebukes of one mech in particular who shoved the others aside and strode forward adorned with a simple crown. Optimus noted that it was significantly shinier than the mech wearing it – though the seeker was already well-buffed – which could only mean that someone spent a lot of time obsessively polishing it. 

    “Vain,” Prowl offered his analysis in a low murmur at Prime’s right side. The seeker in question turned his glare to the Autobot. 

    “We understand Standard Cybertronian, you simpleton,” he hissed. But with prisoners shackled in front of him, he could not remain angry for long. They were no threat to him, and everyone present knew so. The glare melted into a smarmy smirk.

    “What have we here…?” the seeker murmured, optics narrow with pleasure. 

    “I am their leader,” Optimus spoke up, drawing himself up as much as the chains would allow. He did not speak his name yet – perhaps the seekers did not know who they were dealing with, and he would not endanger his Autobots if their reaction to the knowledge was… less than favorable. “You may speak with me.”

    The seeker gave him a measured look, up and down. “Well, that’s obvious.”

    Optimus ignored the quip. “We demand release. Why have you captured my party?”

    The amused look slipped a little. “Because you were trespassing, obviously,” the seeker sneered, examining his claws. “This is our territory, ground-pounder. And I am not inclined to respond to your little demands.”

    Before Ratchet could start cursing, Optimus spoke again. “We were not aware this was your territory-“

    “Bit strange for a buncha seekers to care about what crawls across the ground anyway, ain’t it?” Jazz interrupted.

    “-And we apologize,” Optimus finished, resisting mightily the urge to glare silent ‘shut up Jazz’ signals at the mech in question. “If you would release us unharmed, we will leave your territory and make it known that you are to be undisturbed here, as per the Pax Cybertronia.”

    The crowned seeker frowned and stepped closer, leaning towards Optimus. Though taller by a head, Optimus felt a twinge of unease through his spark, made worse by the way the seeker’s optics widened marginally with surprise at the feel of the Prime’s energy field. The sense of power, he had been told, was unmistakable to any mech. The Matrix within his chest added its own flavor to his energy field, distinctive… if you knew what it was. 

    The seeker withdrew a step, expression closed as he considered. The others grew restless, murmuring amongst themselves until finally one black seeker dared approach.

    “Come on,” this seeker wheedled, transparently sucking up to his leader. “It’s been awhile since we got any in this good of shape, why’re we waiting arou-AIIE!” The black seeker narrowly avoided having his face shredded by sharp claws as the leader swiped lazily at him. “What was that for Starscream?!”

    “Shut your mouth,” the leader – Starscream, Optimus noted – hissed. “I’m still deciding on a punishment for these trespassers.”

    “Like we don’t already know,” another seeker, painted a dark blue, mumbled near the back. Another hiss from Starscream had him looking deferentially away. Another moment or two for Starscream to regain his composure, and he was once again smirking evilly at the Autobots. 

    “We’ve had other intruders before, ground-pounders,” he explained, voice dripping false sweetness, “As I see no reason to be lenient on you, my judgement will be the same for you as it was for them: death by ritual-“ And here he made a long, crooning sound that did not translate, and a cheer broke out in the group of seekers behind him. “Called it!” the blue one shouted.

    “What’s that supposed to mean?” Jazz demanded. Optimus could feel their fear around him, and shared in it. 

    “See for yourself.” Starscream grinned, and gestured to a far wall where yet more chains dangled from the ceiling – and what had previously blended into the dull gray metal of the walls was now illuminated. The shells of other Cybertronians dangled from those chains. Cutting through the shock of the sight was a detail that only now could be seen: streaks of bright colors marred the dead-gray frames, paint transfers smeared around their open chest plates.

    All evidence pointed towards spark extinguishment via too many merges. This evidently hit his team at the same time it hit Optimus.

    “Oh thank Primus,” Ratchet all but sobbed. “I always wanted to go out like this.”

    “I would high-five ya man,” Jazz replied, “if I could reach.”

    “What is wrong with you two?” Prowl hissed, optics wide and white with fear, door wings hitched up high - and he did not appreciate the way the blue one who had spoken previously was watching him, no, not at all. 

    For once, Optimus couldn't think of anything to say. 

    "Take this one," Starscream was saying over the noise of celebrating seekers and fearful (but also celebrating!) Autobots, and he trailed a hand over Optimus Prime's chest from neck to grill, "to my chambers." 

    In the confusion and shock of it all, Optimus did not note which of the seekers leaped forward to obey, unfastening his chains from their anchors and one each grabbing an arm to herd him after their already retreating leader. The world around him didn't make any sense anymore. His reality could not be one where tribes - or flocks? - of seekers kidnapped Autobots to interface to death. It couldn't be. It wasn't. 

    Prowl's startled cry jolted Optimus from his temporary stupor; he twisted to see the Praxian leaning away from a seeker grown bold enough to touch him and his engine roared with a furious warning that made the air tremble and drowned out the scolding hisses of his guards who had been thrown off and were now desperately trying to regain their grip on his chains. 

    "Enough!" The barked command tore through the chamber - and a bolt of laser-fire streaked past Prime to hit the harassing seeker's side. The offender shrieked in pain and stumbled back, shrinking away from Prowl. Starscream's voice was no less firm as he continued. "If any of you even thinks about touching them before me, I'll rip your wings off myself and then you can take their places!" 

    The knowledge that Starscream had his choice of the "spoils" first did little to quiet Prime's engine, or the intensity of his glare as he half-turned to regard the seeker leader with an unspoken threat: if his Autobots were harmed, he would have no mercy on any bot. 

    The shiver of Starscream's wings and the flare of red optics was not reassuring. 

    Order restored once more, Starscream merely smirked and glided away... but this time, it took six seekers to drag Optimus after him.

    ---

    Starscream's chambers, as it turned out, were as gaudy as expected. Treasure (probably - likely - stolen) lined the walls and spilled into piles that seemed meticulously arranged to seem impressive, but kept the best ornaments buried out of sight. Optimus spared little more than a glance to any of it and remained with his back resolutely straight as the crude metal slab that served as a door was slid shut behind him, leaving him with no illumination but the glow of phosphorescent chemical lamps... and the red optics that burned at him from the berth.

    Starscream beckoned with a finger. "Come on now. It really isn't so terrible."

    "Let me guess," Optimus deadpanned, remaining where he stood, "the ones before me seemed to enjoy themselves."

    "For the most part." Starscream's flippant response only annoyed Optimus further.

    "They were murdered," he growled. "by an act that is supposed to be the joining of life, the many becoming one-"

    "Oh, please." Starscream's exasperation was palpable. "Stop it. Your moral objections are of no concern to me. This is going to happen whether you think it's right or not."

    "It's rape," Optimus pointed out.

    "Only if you resist," Starscream replied.

    "I can easily resist. If you doubt me, ask your minions. What makes you think-"

    "That I can force you at all?" Starscream finished, insufferable smirk still planted on his face. "I'd say the fact that I still have your companions, and if you attempted to kill me or escape, you'd be condemning them to a messy death."

    "That they aren't already condemned to?"

    Starscream huffed, growing irritated with this delay. "Believe it or not, the process is quite pleasurable. We take care to ensure it is so. It can be a messy, painful deactivation... if I decree it so. Besides, some number of your party seemed quite pleased by my decision."

    Optimus nearly vibrated with frustration. He had to find a way to spare his bots their fate - no matter if some of them didn't seem to want to be saved. He was certain that Ratchet and Jazz's earlier comments had been borne of hysterics, not any true desire. 

    He was quiet for several long moments... long enough for Starscream's patience to wane, and finally disappear. The seeker scowled and moved to stand from his berth, no doubt to bully Optimus into his berth - but the sudden glint of determination in the Autobot's optics made him pause, and the whirr of plating rearranging to expose spark casing stopped him entirely. 

    Optimus still glared at him, but strode forward, his chest on-level with Starscream's face as his chest plating shifted and folded to the sides. He took some satisfaction, deep down, at the dazzled look on Starscream's face and the way the seeker flinched from the bright light of his spark and the Matrix glimmering around it. 

    "Well?" he prompted after Starscream merely sat there, staring into his chest with a slightly open mouth. "I thought we were interfacing." His sharp tone seemed to rouse Starscream, one blue hand stalling in its progress to touch the glittering marvel embedded in his prisoner's chest.

    "... Yes. Of course." But Starscream was distracted, taken off-guard. It made it easy for Optimus to push forward, to firmly press the seeker leader back fully against the berth and hover over him, straddling the red hips. This new position caused his captor to squirm uncomfortably, but just as Starscream was about to speak again, the Autobot's mask split down the middle and folded apart just as his chest plating had. 

    Starscream was, once again, temporarily silenced. The face beneath the mask was... well, better than he had been expecting. A well-sculpted mouth set in a serious line and a shapely nasal ridge - and young. Starscream's optics flickered, some unidentifiable feeling twisting his features as he stared up at the naked Prime. 

    "... They elected you as leader?" he asked incredulously. "You're barely old enough to fit into that armor!" 

    Starscream had the singular pleasure of watching that pretty mouth curl downwards in an annoyed frown. "I'm older than I look," Optimus assured him. Starscream snorted.

    "Yeah, right. And I'm one of the Thirteen. Get up, I'll make sure your first interface is good... even if it'll be your laAAGH!" 

    When the static cleared from his optical feed, Starscream was greeted with a vision of the young Prime smirking down at him, those large hands still spread flat on his wings, fingers curled and ready to scratch down the length of them again. 

    Starscream's spark pulsed harder than he could ever recall, and a seam opened up along the length of his chest. 

\---

    They had all long since fallen into sullen, wary silence after Prime's disappearance. Ratchet had muttered a half-sparked comment about lucky mechs and Jazz had expressed his deepest sympathies...    

    Prowl just stayed silent.   
   

     Not that Jazz could blame him, precisely, with that blue seeker all up over him, casting death glares at anybot who looked at the mech. As per Starscream's orders, no one touched them - not even Prowl's new admirer - but that couldn't make it any easier on the uptight Praxian. Jazz almost felt bad for him.   
    

    Ratchet, apparently, had no such sympathies. "What are you, a drone?" he snapped at Prowl. "Nobody's happy to die, but... damn, what a way to go! You've gotta agree to that, right?"   
    

    Prowl gave the medic a distinctly unamused look and remained silent. Ratchet looked about to launch into another round of criticism - towards everything, not just Prowl - and Jazz thought he had never been happier to see a seeker as when Starscream came back and interrupted the Autobot.   
   

    Wings shuffled upward all around, the long, long, kind of ridiculously long wait finally over. Not-quite-muted grumbles regarding the length of time Starscream spent with the Autobot were instantly hushed.   
    

    But... wait. Jazz's visor flashed. Was Starscream... stumbling? Just a bit, as he was trying to maintain his poise, but a trained optic could see it clear as anything.   
   

    "Hail!" someone said and the flock responded with enthusiasm, eager to get their fair share of the spoils. Starscream gave them an exhausted salute in response.   
    

    "The Autobots," he addressed the crowd, vocaliser glitching with static, "are being released."  
    

    In the utter chaos that followed that declaration, Jazz finally had the opportunity to slip his chains. Unnoticed amidst the veritable riot, he released the other two Autobots as well, and together they slipped away.   
    

    There was no conversation about what had changed Starscream's mind, why he would decide to let them go. They focused singularly on their goal: freedom. No one needed to say what they were all thinking: Optimus was very likely gone by now - "No one can say he didn't give that jet a good run though, no one else would've lasted that long," Ratchet opined - and they would have to send a recovery team to regain the Matrix and their Prime's body. They would mourn later. Right now, they had to flee for their very sparks.  
    

    It was, therefore, a great surprise to them all when Optimus Prime came staggering out of a hole in the wall.   

    "Boss!" Jazz cried.   
    

    "No time!" Prowl warned. "We have to take advantage of whatever madness Starscream has fallen under-"  
    

    "Heh. Madness," Optimus swayed dizzily on his feet. Jazz wondered if the rest of them could see the smirk on his face despite the mask covering it.   
    

    "Oh for the love of-" Ratchet snapped. "Transform already! We're rolling out of here."  
    

    "Mmmm," Optimus hummed, but he was cognizant enough to follow their lead and transform. Together, they escaped the area and did not slow until they reached the nearest Autobot settlement. Their cargo was gone, Optimus reasoned (once he was capable of reasoning again). There was no reason to linger in the outposts - they would make all due haste back to Iacon City.  
    

    Ratchet had a grand time telling anyone who would listen about their harrowing encounter with vicious, spark-hungry seekers. Prowl did not do more than write his report on the incident and move on, preferring to pretend that nothing had ever happened.   
    

    Jazz went about his business as normal (as normal as Jazz's business got anyway) and if he had an exciting new story to tell curious bots, all the better.  
    

    He never reported the times when Optimus slipped from his quarters and from the watchful optics of his guards to drive out into the wastelands, returning much, much later with the sort of scratches one didn't get from anything as innocent as an off-road drive.   
    

    He merely saluted the Prime and welcomed him back to Iacon. If he asked how Starscream's voice was healing up... Well, it wasn't his fault Optimus Prime was such an easily embarrassed bot and always refused to answer.


End file.
